


Beautiful

by hedgehog_in_221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Image, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, F/M, Happy Ending, Harassment, Plus Size!Reader, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexist Language, Sexual Harassment, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 20:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehog_in_221B/pseuds/hedgehog_in_221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While out at a bar with Dean, the reader gets sexually harassed and verbally abused because of her size. Dean confesses his feelings for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

   You stood in the mirror of your bedroom, staring at yourself and frowning. Nothing you tried on looked flattering on you. “I look so fat,” you murmured to yourself, lifting the dress over your head and grabbing another to try on. This one had the same effect, maybe worse, and you sighed sadly. “Why don't I have anything that looks good on me?” You plucked up yet another dress from the bed and tried it on, this one you go-to for most occasions. It was probably the only thing that looked somewhat decent on you. You smiled sadly as you put it on, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes shot to your arms and you sighed again. Turning, you grabbed your favorite cardigan from the pile of clothes on your bed. You couldn't go out with your arms out and about. Finally, you thought you looked okay. You quickly slipped your shoes on and headed out the door of your bedroom and into the main room of the bunker where Dean was waiting, leaning against the table in the center. He looked up as he heard you enter and he gave you a smile, one that gave you butterflies. You looked away from him, embarrassed to meet his gaze.   
   “You ready?”  
   “Yeah. Sorry I took so long.”  
   “You weren't even in there that long. Don't worry about it,” he said. Sam walked in from the kitchen in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Dean gave him a quizzical look. “Dude, we're going out. You can't go out in sweats.”  
   “I'm not going with. I'm going to bed. You two have fun and don't get too drunk, okay?” he said with a smile before walking to his bedroom. Dean rolled his eyes and looked your way.  
   “Looks like it's just you and me tonight, Y/N,” he said with a bigger grin. You looked up and gave him a face.  
   “Great,” you replied with mock distaste.  
   “Come on,” he said, offering you his arm. You took it gladly, feeling a little better about yourself. After all, how could you feel bad when Dean Winchester had you on his arm?  
   It wasn't long until you two were outside of the closest bar to the bunker. It wasn't a particularly awful one, but it was a Saturday night and was bound to be crowded. You were already losing any confidence you had built up and already you felt mildly sick to your stomach. Dean offered you his arm as he had done in the bunker and you took it, less eager that before. He lead you inside and sure enough, there were sweaty bodies everywhere. You grew nervous as people looked at you two as you walked in. With eyes cast downwards, you let Dean lead the way through the throng of people to an empty table. “What d'ya want?” he asked, smiling. You looked up and tried your best to smile back at him.   
   “You know what I like,” you responded, having drank with the older Winchester on more than one occasion. He gave you a small wink and left you to deal with your flushing cheeks. You hated that he could still make you blush after all the time you've spent with him. It was an understatement, however, to say that you had a crush on him. You'd liked him for some time, but you knew he wouldn't feel the same. How could he when you looked the way you did? You looked up at the bar and spotted him right away. He had two beers in his hands and was talking with some pretty blonde, smiling and chatting her up. Your expression saddened and you looked away, not wanting to look at him having a good time with a girl that wasn't you. Soon, he was back at the table, handing you a beer. “Thanks,” you said quietly. Dean took a swig of his drink. You didn't look at him as you sipped at yours, not feeling in much of a drinking mood.  
   “Hey, what's wrong?” he asked after a while, placing a hand on yours. You withdrew your hand hastily.  
   “Nothing,” you responded curtly, taking a swig of your beer and looking everywhere but at him.   
   “Y/N, come on. Something's up.”  
   “Nope. I'm fine.”  
   “You're lying.”  
   “No, I'm not.”  
   “Yes, you are. I can tell when you're lying.”  
   “You can't, and even if you could, I'm not lying.”  
   “Please tell me what's wrong,” he said after a moment, his tone more sincere. You met his gaze.  
   “There's nothing wrong, okay? Stop worrying about me,” you responded. Wanting to turn the conversation from you, you peered about the room. Spotting the same blonde from before, you pointed her out to Dean. “She's cute, isn't she?” you said. He followed your finger and shook his head, taking another swig from his drink.  
   “Nah. She's too skinny for me. And pretty ditzy. I like my women to be able to hold a conversation for more than 60 seconds,” he replied, looking back at you.  
   “I don't see how she's too skinny. She looks just fine to me,” you said, half wishing you were her right now.  
   “It's just a preference, Y/N. And, just so you know, I wasn't flirting with her. She started talking to me. I was only being nice.” You eyed him suspiciously.  
   “I didn't say you were.” He smirked.  
   “But you were thinking it.” You remained silent and looked away, preoccupying yourself with your beer. He laughed. “You have nothing to jealous of. She's not my type.” You gaped at him.  
   “That's a bit presumptuous of you, don't you think? I have no reason to be jealous of her talking to you,” you said, finishing off your beer. “I don't understand why you think everything is about you.” He looked at you, at a loss for words. Clearing his throat, he set his bottle down on the table and looked at you, his face apologetic and sincere.  
   “I'm sorry. That was stupid of me to assume you were jealous. You're absolutely right. You have nothing to be jealous of her for,” he said, his smile kind. You felt the butterflies swarm in your stomach as your face softened and your face heated.  
   “You know, if you want to make it up to me, you can start by getting me another beer. I've got to go to the bathroom,” you said, standing from the table. He stood as well and nodded.  
   “You got it.” With that, you made your way to the restroom sign at the far side of the bar, aware of the eyes on you as you walked through the noisy tables and crowds of people. You didn't really have to go to the bathroom. What you needed was a bit of fresh air and a quieter atmosphere to think. What was he even talking about? You had every reason to be jealous of that woman. She was pretty and skinny. Everything you wish you could be. Men would give her the time of day and then some. With you, they'd only sneer at you in disgust. Not that you needed every man's approval of your appearance; quite the opposite, really. You only needed Dean, but you were so sure he'd never like you. You were too big, too self-conscious. Not his type at all. As you leaned back against the cool wall outside the bathrooms, your thoughts were interrupted by a man's voice.  
   “Hey there, baby,” he said with a grin. You felt your skin crawl. “You looking for a good time, sweetheart? I'd could show you. I know how you fat chicks are, always desperate for some cock. I'm willing to give it to you, baby.” You felt your stomach churn.  
   “No, thank you. I'm here with someone,” you replied, trying to walk back to the safety of the crowded bar. He wouldn't let you pass.  
   “Oh, come on. Don't be like that. I know you're itchin' to be fucked. Anyone fuck you, baby? I'd fuck you good,” he said, his hand coming to rest on your forearm.  
   “Please, excuse me,” you said, pulling your arm back and attempting to push past him. He wouldn't budge.  
   “What, am I not good enough for you? Really? You fat bitches are all the same, you know? Think you're too good for everyone just because you got standards. You don't get to have standards looking like that, you fat, ugly whore. Good luck trying to find someone to fuck your fat ass,” he said, sneering at you as he pushed past you to the bathrooms. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your face felt hot. You stared after him in shock as you felt tears prickle at the backs of your eyes. All thought of having a good time out with Dean was dashed. You need to leave. Now. You rushed from the wall and back into the chaotic crowds of people. You pushed through crowds and found your table. Dean was sitting there, you beer waiting for you. His eyes flickered over to the restrooms and when he saw you, he suddenly stood, a look of worry on his face. You rushed to the table and looked at him, pleading.  
   “We need to go.”   
   “What happened?”  
   “Please, Dean. Please. We need to go now,” you said, tears starting to fall from your face. He nodded and grabbed his jacket, laying it across your shoulders as he wrapped his arm around you and began to lead you from the bar. As you neared the door, you saw the man that had harassed you in the back. Unfortunately, he saw you too, and sneered at you, a drink in his hand.  
   “Looks like you found someone to fuck you after all, you fat pig,” he said, spitting at you. You wanted to keep walking, but Dean stopped, releasing you as he walked over to the man.  
   “I'm sorry, what was that?” he asked, his face serious. The guy swiveled around on his bar stool.  
   “I think you heard me, buddy,” he replied, his tone challenging. A smirk came over Dean's face.  
   “Yeah, you're right.” And with that, he brought his right fist back and punched him square in the face, knocking him off his stool and onto the floor, his nose already looking crooked. He rubbed his knuckles as he returned to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder again. “Let's get out of this shithole.” Before you knew it, you were back outside in the cool night air and soon in the passenger seat of the Impala. You still wanted to cry, but you were far too dazed. Had he really punched that guy? Why? He's not your boyfriend of anything. You two sat in silence as you drove back to the bunker. You stared out the window blankly, not wanting to think about anything that happened in that bar.   
   The car came to a stop and you noticed you were back home. You sat in the car as Dean cut the engine and got out, rounding the front of the car and opening your door. He offered you his hand and you took it, not looking at him as you got out. You were still wearing his jacket at you two stood in silence, not letting go of his hand. Before you knew what you were doing, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest and letting your suppressed tears fall. “Thank you,” you said, your voice quiet. He wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on yours. You stood like this for a few minutes until you stopped crying. You pulled from him, afraid you'd offended him or worse. Looking up at him, he had a sad smile on his face.  
   “I'm sorry we went out tonight.” You shook your head.  
   “It's not your fault. Please, don't feel bad,” you said. “Why'd you punch him?” you asked. Dean stared back at you, shocked.  
   “Because of what he said to you. He's lucky that's all I did to him, too,” he said, his jaw tightening.  
   “Yeah, but why? It's not like you have to defend me.”  
   “But I do, Y/N. I wasn't going to let some scumbag like him talk to you like that. Not any woman, for that matter, but especially not you. You don't deserve that. No one does.” You stared up at him and you felt your heart speed up.   
   “Dean...I don't understand,” you said quietly. He smiled down at you.  
   “Y/N, you're a beautiful woman. Stunning. Gorgeous. And you don't see that. I know how you feel when you look into the mirror and see someone you don't like. You hate yourself. I know you do. I wish you didn't. You need to love yourself because there are people out there who love you for everything you hate yourself for. People like me. I know you think you're fat. Maybe you are. But who cares? You're perfect the way you are, curves and all. I love you for you, not for your body or for your pretty face. You're smart, funny, kind, and brave. You being drop-dead gorgeous is just an added bonus. And I love your curves. I love everything about you. You are perfect. And if you can't love yourself, then I'll have to love you for the both of us,” he said, his face kind and his smile genuine. You felt tears brim on your lower lid and start to spill down your cheeks. You reached up and pulled him down for a kiss, your arms winding around his neck, his wrapping around your back and pulling you to him. You'd never been kissed with so much intensity and love and it felt wonderful. You smiled as you kissed him, tears still falling from your closed eyes.  
   “I love you, Dean,” you said softly against his lips as he held you. He kissed you again.  
   “I love you more.”


End file.
